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Strange--is it not?--that of the myriads who Before us passed the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the road Which to discover we must travel too. - The Rubaiyat (st. 68), (FitzGerald's translation) [Death] The Moving Finger writes; and having writ, Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it. - The Rubaiyat (st. 71), (FitzGerald's translation) [Change : Fate] And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die, Lift not your hands to it for help--for it As impotently moves as you or I. - The Rubaiyat (st. 72), (FitzGerald's translation) [Sky] And this I know; whether the one True Light Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite, One flash of it within the Tavern caught Better than in the temple lost outright. - The Rubaiyat (st. 77), (FitzGerald's translation) [Light] Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, And ev'n with Paradise devise the snake; For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blackened--Man's forgiveness give and take! - The Rubaiyat (st. 81 (later ed.)) [Forgiveness] Said one among them: "Surely not in vain My substance of the common Earth was ta'en And to this Figure moulded, to be broke, Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again." - The Rubaiyat (st. 84), (Fitzgerald's translation) [Pottery] All this of Pot and Potter--Tell me then, Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot? - The Rubaiyat (st. 87), (FitzGerald's translation) [Pottery] Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose. That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close! The Nightingale that in the branches sang Ah whence and whither flown again, who knows? - The Rubaiyat (st. 96), (FitzGerald's translation) [Spring] You know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more. - The Rubaiyat (st. III), (FitzGerald's translation) [Life] Ah Love! could you and I with him conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire Would we not shatter it to bits--and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire? - The Rubaiyat (st. IX), (FitzGerald's translation) [Life] But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Checker-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays. - The Rubaiyat (st. LXIX), (FitzGerald's translation) [Life] A Moment's Halt--a momentary taste Of Being from the Well amid the Waste-- And, Lo! the phantom Caravan has reach'd The Nothing it set our from. Oh, make haste! - The Rubaiyat (st. XLVIII), (FitzGerald's translation) [Life] Think, in this battered Caravanserai, Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day, How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destined Hour, and went his way. - The Rubaiyat (st. XVII), (FitzGerald's translation) [Life : World] I came like Water, and like Wind I go. - The Rubaiyat (st. XXVIII) [Life] Displaying page 2 of 2 for this author: << Prev 1 [2]
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